


In the heat and the heart and the dark

by psychomachia



Category: American Horror Story: Hotel
Genre: Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Edgeplay, First time with a man, Gentle Dom, Ghost Sex, Knifeplay, M/M, Mind Games, Trust Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 13:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18447302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/pseuds/psychomachia
Summary: There's so much to love about John, but perhaps the best part is his willingness to do anything James asks.





	In the heat and the heart and the dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gayporwave](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayporwave/gifts).



James had dealt with many bodies in his life. That most of them have been dead is of little matter, for flesh is flesh and it can be lovely even when it is splitting from the bone. 

The man kneeling in front of him, however, is very much alive. 

That will change. At some point, James knows John will die, his body growing colder with each passing second, and he'll gurgle out one last curse against the world they've passed judgment on together. 

Someday. After the work is done.

But not today. Today John is such a good boy and he deserves a special treat for how well he's done. 

James puts his hand on John's head. “I'm so proud of you, you know,” he says, smiling gently. “So very proud of all you've done.” He lets his cold fingers trace through the warm, silky hair. It's a little long, he thinks. Perhaps, he'll give John a haircut.

A shave, too. The gleaming silver razor against John's throat, tracing gently down his veins. One little swipe – and oh, the red running down the neck. James would drink it down, not waste a single precious drop.

He's not that type of monster, but everything John gives him, and everything else he takes, he'll keep. 

John smiles back, his teeth gleaming. “It's all because of you,” he says. “You've shown me the way.” His eyes are so bright and eager, not the dullness that James first saw when he met him. Before his true potential could be unlocked.

Such a tragedy it could have been, for John to continue his mundane existence, dying a little each day to the petty boredom and unexceptional facets of modern life. Now, his death will be beautiful, the culmination of decades of master planning, only to be foiled constantly by lackluster successors.

James likes to think, sometimes, about what it would have been like if he could have John at the beginning. John, a young detective sent to investigate his crimes, and James, still free and able to walk the earth, taking life as he saw fit. 

John would have been resistant at first – he always is, but James would have worn down his defenses through kind words and a firm hand on his shoulder and maybe just a touch of laudanum. Really, nothing different than how it actually played out,but we would have had a partner, not a protege, and oh, how delightful that would have been. 

James likes to think they would have made movies about it in the end. Perhaps even Mr. Hitchcock would have deigned to tell their story, and James would have made sure that it would be a grand one indeed. 

Oh, but James has lost himself in daydream for too long.

John is fidgeting now, his hands grasping on empty air. He's licking his lips, too, as if he can't decide if he wants the cock in his hands or his mouth.

Normally, he'd get both by the end, but it's time to take things to the next level. It wouldn't do to remain complacent.

“John, what have I told you about patience?” he says. “We must strive to be virtuous, after all.”

John lowers his head and puts his hands down by his side. “I'm sorry,” he says. 

“I forgive you.” He can't be too harsh on him, even if he does cry so very pretty. “But we have all night and you don't want to rush this, now do you?”

“No,” he says.

James stands up from the mattress. John's been trained well enough that he remains put, not even turning his head as James walks behind him. 

So perfect, James thinks. And after tonight, he'll have had him in all the ways that count. 

He opens the dresser drawer – the noise doesn't even make John flinch. He wonders if John knows what's coming. Teeth or hands? Belt or rope?

Knife or--- well, it's going to be a knife. Guns just won't work for what he wants to do. 

John remains kneeling. James admires his reflection in the silver gleam. 

It's taken them so long to get to this, but the trust John has in him and their plans is breathtaking. 

He bends down behind John, whispers into his ear. “Lovely,” he says. “You're just so lovely.”

His breath hitches, and James can see him swallow. The vein is just so tempting...

The knife traces down John's back. James puts his other hand down John's chest, undoes the robe from the front. 

John squirms a little as James's hand caresses around his waist, and he can see him wanting to lean into his touch. His poor neglected cock is starting to rise, but not yet. 

The prick of the knife against John's neck is a warning only. It's not meant to do damage. “No, darling,” he says. “We're not doing this tonight.”

The poor thing looks confused. Best to comfort him. “But I won't leave you unsatisfied,” he says, pressing a kiss to John's nape. “Or do you think I'd go back on my word?”

John is silent.

“I asked you a question,” he repeats, his tone a little more firm, but no raised voices here. No unnecessary cruelty. Not for the one he chose. 

That's for everyone else. 

“No,” John whispers. “I trust you.”

Just so lovely. 

James lets the knife sink in a little as he traces it down John's back. Nothing permanent, but he admires the beads of red that slowly begin to trickle down the back. He lets his tongue lick down the path his knife follows, and feels John shiver against his mouth. 

It's sweet in his teeth and he'd love to eat him alive.

Later.

James moves the knife to the front of John's neck, turns it so it rests flat against his jugular and nuzzles against his hair. “And you should,” he says. “Because I want nothing but the best for you.”

“I know.” John arches back a little, closing his eyes. “I won't let you down.”

Foolish boy. James could never be disappointed by him. “That's why I want to give you a present.” He takes the knife away and smiles as he hears John let out a soft sigh. “A reward for all your hard work.”

He stands up, watches John open his eyes and focus on James standing before him. 

James reaches out his hand. “Take it,” he says, and John does. 

He pulls him up. It will only be for a second.

“I want you to lie down on the bed.” James caresses John's hand, then lets it go. “Face first, if you please.”

John is quick to oblige and James takes a moment to admire the sight in front of him, the blood-streaked back, the hands clenching at the sheets, the no-doubt weeping cock leaking onto the sheets as John waits for him. 

Were this anyone else, it would be the final sight he would have before the knife plunged into the back or the hands wrapped around the throat. But he wants to savor his protege, so he lets himself watch John twitch as he casually disrobes. It could be over in a second.

But James learned about patience so many years ago and he's a master at preparation. 

And he wants to make this good for John, so very good. So many secrets John has confessed to him, so many things he doesn't remember telling him as James sat there nodding, letting the liquor loosen his tongue and let the darkness out. He would never use them against him – well, not unless it helps John achieve their goal and there was one delicious thing James found out. 

One hope, one fear, one confession that John made, hesitant and shy, waiting to be judged for. 

But John is above judgment, above any sort of reproach one might make to him. James just needs to show him how valued he is, how much he is needed and loved. 

And how much he fully belongs to James, body and soul inextricably bound to his predecessor and the man who taught him everything he needed to reach his full potential. 

He walks over to the bed, sits down next to John, and lets his hand go lower now. It teases against his cheeks, lets a finger slip in and John bucks against it. 

“Shh,” he says. “It's all right.” James lets the finger stay in there, lets John get used to its presence. “Don't I always take care of you?”

“Yes,” John says. His voice comes out a little raspy.

“And you're so good, so loyal, so willing to do whatever I ask you.” James slips in another finger, lets them twist inside John. The heat inside is overwhelming. 

“You're doing everything I've dreamed of and I'm so grateful, so appreciative of your efforts,” John is shaking now as James keeps working his fingers, taking them out and then letting them dive in. 

“James--”

“But I do wonder, sometimes, if I'm not providing you with everything you need. I fear that you might seek somewhere else to receive comfort or aid,” James says,his tone thoughtful. “Perhaps I neglect certain needs of yours.” He slips a third finger in.

“Please,” John says. He turns his head to the side, and James sees his red-rimmed eyes. They're feverish, and he's breathing harshly. “Please...”

“Do you need someone else?” James asks. “I'm sure there's--”

“I need you,” John sobs. “Just you.”

Magnificent. “Hands and knees,” he says. 

John looks confused. James smiles patiently at him, waiting for him to get it. 

He does. 

The sight before him is rather impressive. If John kneeling on the floor was a charming sight, John's raised ass and cock dangling before him is positively exquisite. All of this is his tonight – and for many nights to come. 

James gets behind John and spreads him fully, letting his hands knead against John's flesh. “Thank you,” he says,”and lets his cock slide into John's waiting hole.

James is also thankful that people are used to screaming in the hotel, because John's wail echoes throughout the room. Some of his residents may think he's torturing the poor detective.

Well, in a way... 

James inches his way in further. “You're doing so well,” he says. “So well.”

John is gulping down air and his hands rip through the cotton sheets on the bed. 

“Just a little bit more, John,” he says. “We're almost there.”

He can feel John make the effort to relax, to let his muscles loosen. He's still tight and hot and perfect around him, and oh, John, how could no one have taken this before now? 

Because you were waiting for me to come and set you free?

The final inches and he's there, flush against John's straining body. He lets one hand rest against John's ass and another one reach in front of him to palm John's cock. It's so hard. Poor John must have been holding back all this time.

“It's all right, John,” he reassures. “You can breathe.”

John lets out a shaky breath and James lets his hand grip John's cock. “Just keep breathing,” he says. “You're so gorgeous like this.”

Then James starts moving, both his cock inside and his hand outside, gripping John's own. He's not going to make this rough, not for the first time, but it's not going to be slow either. They're both too excited for that. 

John gets into his rhythm quickly, moving with James so that it becomes one fluid motion of bodies pushing forward, then pulling back. 

“Your body is just so lovely,” James says. “How is it that no one's ever fucked you before?”

John's reaction is gratifying as he tightens instinctively, causing a delicious friction on James' cock. “I—I mean--

James lets his grip get tighter on John's cock, works his fingers firmer. “It's just such a pity we didn't meet each other sooner,” he says. “All these years of waiting for both of us when we could have been fucking for years.”

John's heat around him is a welcome contrast to the cool of the hotel – his flushed, sweaty skin a reminder of the living and it will be perhaps the thing he most misses when the work is completed. But for now, he will take advantage of the man arching against him. He'll thrust inside him, let John feel every hard inch of the one he's pledged his loyalty and love to. 

“You take it so well,” James adds. “I wonder if--.” He lets his voice trail off, picking up speed and energy. They're so close now. 

John falters, but recovers, just as James knew he would . “If what--” he manages to choke out.

James doesn't know what's more delightful. That John thinks he intended to finish that sentence or that he knows John's about five seconds away from coming. 

And look at that. So is he.

John is screaming and James closes his eyes and drinks it in – drinks in the lust and the pain and the confusion all together like wine as he comes inside John and John comes inside his hand and it really is perfect. It's a true communion, in every sense of the word.

“Take, eat – this is my body,” he murmurs into John's ear and comes inside him. He knows he doesn't imagine John's shiver, but whether it's at the words or James's completion, he's not sure. 

How delicious if it were both. 

As John opens his mouth to take in a long, shuddering breath, James closes his mouth over his. He imagines that he breathes warm, accepting darkness deep into him, takes from John all hesitation and fear about his place in this world. 

There will be bruises and bites on John's body that will mark him, and no doubt John will concoct his own story for why he has them. A crime or an affair? Whatever will make him feel more shame. That will not change, at least not at the beginning. Everything tangible will fade and John will forget, not realizing just how deep the marks really go. 

Or how far they'll both go together. Tomorrow, John will wake and think he's still the detective, lurking at the door. Some in the Hotel will think him a toy, the newest plaything James has found to amuse himself in his considerable spare time. A few may even come close to the truth, thinking him a tool, to be used to fulfill a legacy before being discarded. 

They will all be wrong.

James fondly strokes John's spent cock, still held in his grasp. He's pleased to see it responding to his touch, even as John sobs and pants and tries to get himself under control. He won't, of course. James will see to that. 

James kisses John on the lips, nips at them until he draws blood, then pulls away with a smile. John unconsciously licks his lips, mouthing at the tang of copper. His tongue licks every drop up.

It's going to be a long, glorious night. 

“And just think,” James says, as John's tears run down his face and his cock turns rigid again, “how much fun we'll have when you actually start remembering.”


End file.
